


Courting Death

by Erisandmira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Obsession, Possessive Tom Riddle, Tom riddle is death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 11:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erisandmira/pseuds/Erisandmira
Summary: In which Harry Potter lives when he should have died, and now death haunts his every step.





	Courting Death

“_Do you not know me? I will tell you then:_

_I am he that conquers all the sons of men,_

_No pitch of honour from my dart is free,_

_My name is Death! Have you not heard of me?_

_I come to none before their warrant's sealed,_

_And, when it is, they must submit, and yield._

_If Death commands the King to leave his crown_

_He at my feet must lay his sceptre down;_

_Then, if to Kings I do not favour give_

_But cut them off, can you expect to live_

_Beyond the limits of your time and space?_

_Prepare yourself to go; I'm come for you."_

\- J. Deacon, 'Death and the Lady'

* * *

Harry Potter had entered the world quietly. Ghostly pale, lips bluish and eyes closed. Still and quiet as though asleep. Some say he had died just before taking his first breath, other scoffed and said the healers had simply been wrong.

Stillborn, silent like the grave.

Miracle, the boy who lived. 

Harry recalls it differently, or maybe the word 'recall' is too strong in this case. If anything it resembled a scattered dream more than it did a far-off memory. And yet, sometimes, Harry would close his eyes and the image would become so vivid, emotional and coherent. As if re-living the moment. Cold fingers touching the nape of his neck in a gentle caress. A face that appeared human, ethereally beautiful yet almost grotesque. It inspired comfort, smiled and beckoned. Harry recalled not felling any fear, despite not knowing what it might do and where it might take him.

** _Come with me child._ **

Where to?

** _The end of everything. _ **

A hand reached down, time had run out and he was ready, but then, Harry suddenly coughed and started breathing. And his heart, too, started beating. A scream pierced the air and Harry –

** _No! I have you fast! I will not let you loose!_ **

– lived.

According to the local priest, Dumbledore, this miracle happened because his mother, still exhausted from child birth, prayed to the Goddess of Life in desperation and placed him in the Holy Spirit Oasis. The Goddess of Life gifted him with part of her own life force, saving his life and turning his eyes unnaturally green as a side effect.

“Love is powerful,” Dumbledore’s eyes had twinkled, “more powerful than any other force in this world. Your life, to have been loved so deeply, is nothing but a blessing.”

His aunty Petunia version of it was less kind, she claimed his father had performed some sinful ritual to bargain with Death, and thus resurrecting a corpse that should have stayed buried. When she felt particularly malevolent, she said he was a phantom of borrowed life and that soon death would come for him.

That much was true, death did come for him; again and again.

Godric's Hollow, famed as the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor – one of the village’s founding fathers, was the final resting place of Lilly and James Potter. The young couple died the same day they brought their son home.

Light, with the same green hue that colored Harry’s eyes, lit the lovely hallway of their home, making the banisters glow like lightning rods, and James Potter collapsed like a marionette whose strings were cut.

Shadows, hushed as the night, trailed after Lilly Potter. When she reached the nursery room, it embraced her with coldness, thus dousing out her life.

** _Return to me, Harry._ **

The fourth house of Privet Drive, was as unremarkable and uninspired as those inhabiting it. For many years, Petunia and Vernon Dursley lived there peacefully with their son Dudley. Their nephew could often be found trapped inside the cupboard under the stairs, miserable and neglected.

Rampaging fire consumed the house before Harry saw his 15th summer. The flames were lengthy and vengefully, wiping off all traces of the Dursley family existence from the world. That's was the purpose of fire; total destruction.

** _How long do you think you flee from me child?_ **

* * *

Twilight faded to blackness – the best and worst time of day. Crooks and criminals flooded the streets, for like all predators, they hunted at night. Harry could feel their eyes lingering on him, sliding along the slope of his shoulders, small statue and too-thin torso.

_Easy prey_, the starving beasts foolishly concluded.

Harry kept his head low as he walked, hoping to avoid conflict for as long as possible. He could not afford to be delayed again. A little more, a little more and this could all be over. He just had to reach her in time.

Despite the danger lurking in every corner and the time constraints, Harry couldn’t help but to feel a little more relaxed. Darkness concealed his imperfections; scars burned onto his flesh, stabs of knife that should have ended his life. Wrapped up in its anonymity, he almost felt safe.

_Praised be to eternal night, praised be to eternal sleep; far removed from the reach of light._

Clearing the top step of the long staircase, Harry entered a low-ceilinged attic with walls and floor built of heavy timber. Shafts of moonlight traveled through window, lying on the floor like melting ice.

“Pretty, isn’t?” A girl with waist-long, pale blonde hair and sliver eyes emerged from the shadows, she spoke with a dreamy and distracted voice, “A bit contradicting though. I mean, the moon is closer to the sun, so it shouldn’t have ice. “

Harry casted a tired smile in her direction – he couldn’t remember last time he got more than 2 hours uninterrupted sleep. The past weeks had been even more exhausting, as he had raced to meet reach her in time, but he had been delayed in every turn. He was late, she should have left two days ago.

“Luna…I-I, thank you,” Harry said softly.

Luna hummed and turned towards the window to run a finger along the stiff framing, her pink nail looked almost blue in the half-light. Dust and dirt followed when she lifted her finger up.

“The dust layer is too thick for a week or two, I reckoned it’s been months since this place was cleaned, “Luna remarked.

A little confused, which was pretty common when talking to Luna, Harry said, “This area is pretty, uh, bad? I doubt it has ever been cleaned.”

For the first time in the conversation, Luna looked directly at him. Her sliver eyes were piercing and searching. One did not feel safe under them, for they saw clearly too. It feels like a violation of sorts, and Harry struggled to not lower his gaze.

“Dirt tends to accumulate, covering every surface and dulling colors. And yet, it’s perfectly natural, it deserves to exist too. However, I like to keep things clean occasionally, to add some variation.”

She approached him, slow and carefully, and Harry wanted to fall to his knees and beg; for answers, for salvation.

Down below, a run-down shop sprawled across the main level. A man waited down there, lingering near the allay, thinking he’s well-hidden. A thief perhaps, or someone with more malevolent intentions. The man carried a blade that might make its way into Harry’s flesh like many before it.

Harry was tempted to allow it, simply because it made no different, except – 

_The world looked eerie, as if the sky, trees and even air had gone to sleep and sent slightly more ominous versions of themselves to take their places. Everything was off, and Harry could shake of the feeling that he was somewhere else._

** **

** _Harry, come with me._ **

_There it stood, with appearance of a tall, darkly handsome man; young and ancient. A mocking smile painted its lips. What a beautiful face, Harry almost missed the rips at the edges: like mask dissolving. _

_Harry casted his eyes around, trying to tally the fiction with the reality, where was he? What was going on?_

** _Poor child, are you not tired?_ **

_The figure sank into the shadows, at home in the darkness, watching. _

– he couldn’t survive much more. His sanity was on the line. For too long he had lived in fear. Stalked by an invisible adversary, who surveying and manipulated his every move. It snatched where it could, taking people who were good, people Harry loved. His enemy hung over him constantly, always threatening. It had never touched Harry directly, but it had ripped away a part of his, the part of her that was most precious.

“Luna,” Harry voice was filled with equal parts desperation and hatred, “How do I destroy death?”

The great Oracle, the sliver priestess of fate, his friend, tilted her head to the side and smiled, “You make it mortal.”

**Author's Note:**

> A Halloween special! I hope it an idea that sounds interesting, because I had lots of fun writing this. Please leave a comment, I'll love to hear your thoughts and it really fuels my writing to hear what other thinks.


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